Where I live

I’d sit at my desk

My black cork bulletin board

covered with dated notes I found impossible to remember

I’d sit in my easy chair

My natural white pine bookshelves

adorned with living volumes I found endlessly enthusiastic.

I’d sit on my carpet

My fish filled aquarium

surrounded with fingerprinted glass, I found watching me.

I’d lay on my bed

My overstimulated eye

captured the shrunken apple heads, I found dangling.

In my museum-like living space.

By M. Perron (Originally written October 19, 1992)

Notes: Sometimes I’m amazed and a little frustrated at how long I’ve been looking to define myself.